


Shore Leave Blues

by Sal (Cookie)



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2016-02-25
Packaged: 2018-05-23 05:04:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6105826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cookie/pseuds/Sal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Why could Shore Leave never go smoothly for Trip and Malcolm?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shore Leave Blues

 

“I am …” Lieutenant Malcolm Reed scrabbled for purchase on the rock face, “never going …” he tested the hand hold and hauled himself up, “on shore leave with you …,” he scanned the route they were taking, reassuring himself they were still following the right line, then moved his foot, “ever…” he grunted with effort and blinked sweat out of his eyes, “again.”

Commander Tucker scowled at his entire view of Reed, which at the moment more or less consisted of the soles of the man's boots. “How come it’s my fault?” he groused. “Hey, easy there,” he yelled, as a cascade of small stones and dirt rained down upon him.

“Sorry. That hold wasn’t as stable as I thought.”

He didn’t sound very sorry, Tucker decided, and returned to his previous topic as he carefully copied each of the moves Reed made.

“Why _are_ you blaming me for this mess, anyway?”

“It’s a friendly visit, Malcolm, don’t need to bother with a phase pistol … what d’you think they’re gonna do, lootenant, mow us down with two twigs an’ a grass skirt?” Each phrase was punctuated by a careful movement up the sheer cliff, or a moment taken to test a hand or foothold.

Despite their current predicament, Tucker grinned against the rock face. For some reason Reed’s uncanny imitation of his accent always tickled him. Not that he’d ever let the man know that, of course. He was insufferable enough already. That thought returned him to his original argument.

“I made a judgement based on the information we had from the Vulcan database, and what the captain reported back from his first contact meeting. You saying you would’ve thought different?”

“No, Commander, I wouldn’t,” there was a pause for a beat, finely timed to allow Tucker a brief moment’s self-satisfaction before the delivery concluded, “but I would still have carried a phase pistol.”

Tucker scowled again, deciding to save his energy for the task at hand. There would be plenty of time to argue with Malcolm if - when, he corrected himself grimly - they extracted themselves from this mess.

The planet had seemed like a paradise when they first approached. There were large areas of urban landscape but equally as large areas of pristine green countryside, and even the cities had the appearance of gardens interrupted by buildings rather than a mass of stone and glass.

Captain Archer had instigated a first contact meeting and he and T'Pol had travelled alone to the planetary capital, much to Reed's obvious alarm and disapproval. For once, however, everything had gone smoothly and Reed's concerns were unfounded, although he still managed to radiate his disapproval at the captain's debriefing session.

Tucker had been highly amused when Archer appeared completely oblivious to that disapproval, and he had listened with half an ear as Archer burbled on about the planet's history and culture, inwardly chuckling at Malcolm's facial expressions. How he wished he had listened now, he thought, as he scrabbled for a handhold. Somehow, instead of the refined society he was sure he'd heard Archer describe, he and Reed seem to have landed in the midst of a prehistoric landscape, complete with a horde of painted denizens who had surged towards them brandishing clubs and howling at the tops of their voices the moment they had rounded a corner and been seen.   He had exchanged one startled, horrified look with Malcolm before they bolted. Their initial instinct was to make for the shuttlepod but even as they ran in that direction they realised they were too late. Ensign Travis Mayweather was already on his way back to the continent's capital city. They wasted no time talking, increasing their speed, instead.

Their flight had halted temporarily when they were faced with an almost sheer cliff, but the intensifying sounds of pursuit saw them scrambling upwards almost without thinking. If they _had_ thought about it, Tucker now realised, they would never have attempted it.

Reed glanced upward, relieved beyond words to see he was almost at the top. Two or three more moves and they would be safe. Don’t lose concentration now, he cautioned himself, and brought his focus back to the climb. Left hand to that spur, right foot onto small ledge, right hand, oh thank God, right hand at the lip of the canyon wall. His fingers scrabbled for purchase, grabbing at a tuft of vegetation. He tugged it carefully and then with more force, grateful when there was no give and it held steady. Left foot to there, left hand up, right foot.

Suddenly, he was hauling himself onto the level grass of the plateau. For a second he caught his breath, trying not to let the weakness brought on by sheer relief take over, before he rolled onto his front and wriggled carefully to the edge. A flailing hand nearly smacked across his face and he caught hold of it as he dodged.

“Steady there, Commander,” he said. “I’ve got you.” He adjusted his grip to strengthen it and then waited until the man’s other hand appeared, grabbing it before he began to edge himself backwards, pulling Tucker up as he did so.

Finally they were both lying on the springy green turf, regaining breath and composure, their arms still around one another, Tucker's face buried against Reed's chest. Reed hid a grin as Tucker suddenly pulled away and flushed. There was a pause before they glanced at one another, shimmied to the edge, and carefully looked down the rock face they had just climbed. Both were pale by the time they exchanged looks again.

The view from this perspective of the climb they had just completed was one thing, but of even more concern was the sight of several figures beginning the ascent in their wake.

"Why did they wait?" Reed asked.

Tucker shrugged, "they were probably expecting us to fall. They're movin' pretty fast,"

"Yes," Reed agreed.

There was a moment's silence before with one accord they clambered to their feet, ignoring limbs already trembling with fatigue, and headed for the forest which loomed, dark green and forbidding, before them.

***

They hiked across the green sward of the grassy plain, moving determinedly towards the only source of cover; the sinister, dark mass of the trees. There was a dense quality to the forest and they exchanged a look, both expressions clearly indicating their shared disquiet. As they walked, Reed considered Tucker, thinking back over the time they had known one another. He could not pinpoint now the moment he had realised Tucker was attracted to him, it had simply become part of their close friendship. Despite his own feelings on the matter, the dictates of duty had intervened, leaving Reed unable to instigate a relationship with a higher-ranking officer. Instead, he’d taken a delight in building that strong, solid friendship - something he’d never before known. The fact it simply led to him falling deeply in love was something he usually managed to avoid thinking about. Over time, however, he’d begun to wonder; wonder whether he could trust what was between them enough to take it further and wonder at the constancy Tucker demonstrated.

Just when he had been about to give in, the Xindi attacked.

Everything collapsed about his ears. After their visit to the site where Lizzie had died, Tucker had retreated, becoming a distant, cold stranger. Reed tried to understand, but could not deny how much it hurt him and he had withdrawn in turn, pulling away and mourning the loss while he did everything he could to give Tucker the revenge for which he clearly hungered.

His eyes fixed on the green horizon, and he couldn't help but shiver. Their experiences in the Expanse still visited him in nightmares, even a year later, and he rather thought they always would. On top of that, Tucker's involvement with T'Pol seemed to have finished any chance for a relationship between the two men, and there were times Reed had cursed himself for his cowardice; for not taking the opportunity that had presented itself years before.

Lately, though, he had seen more and more signs of the old Tucker, as if the man was emerging from the cocoon of grief, confusion and anger, and along with it came the outward shows of affection and attraction. Reed glanced sideways at him and doubted if he would ever dare to take the risk.

Tucker caught the look and commented. "Wonder what's waiting for us in there," giving a voice to the concern they were both feeling at the dark jungle of green.

Practically, Reed shoved his own thoughts to one side and responded:" I hate to think, but it's the only cover and given the rate those aliens were climbing the cliff, the sooner we get there the better." So saying, he picked up the pace, breaking into a jog.

With a grimace, Tucker forced his already exhausted limbs to co-operate and followed him as they headed in a straight line for the trees. When they reached the edge Reed dropped to a walk and took a sharp right, beginning to move much more carefully.

"What are you doing?" Tucker asked, even while he followed the careful movements.

"They'll follow the direct line we took," Reed said. "With any luck they'll assume we took the same line when we got in here. It might just buy us some time. Do you want to try raising the ship again?"

They stopped for a moment while Tucker fished out his communicator. His attempt to hail Enterprise was greeted by a burst of static. "Damn," he swore softly. Neither had really expected a response at this point, but the hope had been there. They exchanged a glance, one of the things they both recalled from the briefing was Captain Archer's comment about the frequent solar storms and their effect on communications.

"How long before this clears?" asked Reed.

"'About four hours according to what the captain said. Apparently these people have developed communicators that cut through it but even those are just for emergencies, they use so much power. Can't imagine those guys following us coming up with something like that though."

"Wonderful," Reed said. "I think this might just qualify as an emergency, don't you?"

"Yeah, pity we don’t have one, huh."

"Perhaps we could mug one of the gentlemen in green and see if he happens to be carrying one."

Tucker chuckled at the response and then asked, "What's up?"

Reed had stopped and held up his hand, asking for and receiving complete silence. Tucker concentrated on his breathing, making it as shallow and quiet as possible.

In a voice barely above a whisper, Reed said. "We're being followed."

Tucker's brow furrowed. "We knew that."

A shake of the head. "Not just followed - stalked."

Tucker gulped. "Boy, this day just keeps getting' better," he said. "What do you suggest we do?"

"We keep going, Commander - and hope for the best."

"That's your plan?"

Tucker sounded almost scandalised and Reed's lips twitched into a brief smile as he answered with a shrug.

"Shouldn't we climb a tree and get some height or something?"

Another shake of the head and then Reed explained, "For a start we've no idea what's after us - for all we know it could be something that can climb the damn trees. And if we stop, then our new friends are going to catch up with us instead."

"Do the words rock and a hard place apply here, Malcolm?" Tucker asked, and was rewarded with a brief chuckle.

"I'm beginning to think they were coined just for us, Commander." Reed took a deep breath. "We just need to keep ourselves safe until the storm clears and we can contact the ship."

"So let's get moving, Lieutenant," and he gestured ahead.

"Aye, sir," Reed took point and they walked on quietly, Tucker trying to stop himself casting nervous glances over his shoulder every few moments.

As Reed moved his gaze swept the forest floor, casting around for anything that could be used as a weapon. Every so often he picked up a branch, hefting it. When he found two he was satisfied with, he passed one back.

Tucker looked blankly at it for a moment before understanding dawned. "Thanks," he said, remembering to keep his voice low.

They continued in silence for some time, moving quietly but with as much speed as they could manage, until they were halted in their tracks by a loud, feral snarl.

"That's close," Tucker said, his words almost drowned by an answering call.

"And that's in front of us," Reed said.

"You telling me we're being hunted by a _pack_ or something?"

"Technically by two packs," Reed reminded him.

"Just … lovely," Tucker's attempt at an English accent was execrable and earned him a snort of disgust. He grinned at Reed's back, obscurely delighted by the response before he asked: "What do we do now?"

"Try to find a defensible position and sit it out," Reed answered. "We're running out of any other options."

A different sound cut through the oppressive atmosphere.

"That was … well, not human, but you know what I mean." The clear cry had obviously issued from one of the aliens pursuing them.

"It could work to our advantage," Reed said.

"Something else to hunt, you mean?"

"Might distract whatever's after us."

As if in response another animalistic snarl sounded, and this one was further away.

Tucker heaved a huge sigh of relief.

The forest exploded in front of them, the attack rapid and without any warning. The animal leapt, flattening Reed, ferocious fangs heading for his throat. His reflexes kicked in just in time to grab it under the muzzle. Forcing the head up and away. Dimly he was aware of Tucker yelling, feeling the reverberation through the beast on top of him as Tucker brought his makeshift weapon down squarely on the top of its head.

It snarled and turned, heading for the source of this pain and despite his shock, Reed was on his feet and scrambling for the stout bough he had been carrying. Between them they aimed blows at the creature, keeping it confused until, with a final snarl and lunge, it disappeared into the trees.

The two men were left staring at one another, breathing heavily. Reed moved and then gasped in pain, sinking suddenly to the soft forest floor.

"Malcolm!" Tucker approached him.

"I've twisted my damn ankle," Reed's disgust at this latest turn of events was clear in his voice.

"Great," Tucker collapsed beside him. Shock and the release of tension causing his limbs to tremble in reaction, only slightly mollified when he saw that his companion was also shaking. "Can anything else go wrong?" he asked.

"Well, at least it's not raining," Reed said, shrugging at the look of disbelief that statement garnered. He sobered. "You need to keep moving, Commander."

"I …? _We_ need to keep moving, Lieutenant." Tucker's voice brooked no argument, knowing exactly what Reed was suggesting and trying to nip any dissent in the bud. "We stick together, Malcolm."

"Sir, I will only slow you down."

"Okay, Malcolm," Tucker said, "let me put this in words of one syllable. Shut up!"

"Trip …"

"An' that's an order, Lieutenant." Reed glared at him, shutting his mouth with an audible snap. "Okay, now can you get up or do you want a hand?" Tucker was already clambering to his feet. Malcolm was still scowling at him and he sighed. "Malcolm!"

"You gave me a direct order, Commander."

"Oh, for the love of - You are _the_ most infuriating piece of work. We need to move, don't we? So snap out of it."

Reed flushed, and stared up at him. Tucker saw the moment Reed worked out that the irritation in his voice was covering the concern lurking beneath. He sighed and reached out a hand, offering a half-shrug of apology and Tucker wrapped his fingers around his Reed’s, squeezing slightly to convey his own silent apology as he helped him to his feet.

"Sorry," Reed said, biting his lip and staring at his feet.

"Don't worry about it," Tucker replied, retaining his grip on the hand he held. "I should be used to you after all this time, shouldn't I?" His tone was faintly indulgent, and he smiled fondly.

Reed just grunted in response and Tucker saw him flush slightly as Tucker squeezed his fingers again. Their gazes locked for a brief moment and then Tucker cleared his throat.

"Let's get moving."

They arranged themselves so Tucker could offer his support, while their free hands gripped the stout wooden clubs. The implements had already proven their worth and neither had any intention of leaving them behind.

**

Over the next hour or so they moved onward, much slower than either liked, Reed bit his lip against the pain from his wrenched ankle, and did his best to ignore the occasional concerned glances Tucker cast at him, concentrating instead on maintaining as fast a pace as he could manage.

Every so often the dull silence of the forest was broken, a variety of animal and non-animal calls pushing through the dense vegetation. They had long since lost any sense of direction, blindly stumbling onward, their only goal to stay ahead of their pursuers until the interference in the atmosphere subsided and they could once more contact the ship. Occasionally, Tucker called a halt to their progress, ostensibly to pull out his communicator to check on the signal but Reed was aware that each stop was a chance for him to rest, and he cursed himself for this weakness.

On this occasion he leaned miserably against a tree trunk and watched Tucker’s fruitless attempt. Both of them knew there was still at least an hour before there was any hope of rescue. A cry sounded close by, loud enough to make both men jump. They exchanged a look and, without speaking, moved onward once more.

They missed the sound - the soft hiss buried beneath the noise of their progress - and it was Reed's sudden cry of pain that stopped Tucker. They were both distracted by a feral cry close by and the sounds of shouting. When the noise retreated into the distance, both men let out the breath they were holding and Tucker turned to Reed.

"You hurt your ankle again?" he asked.

"Shoulder."

Tucker moved until he could get a good look and Reed jumped when he snapped out a rough expletive.

"What is it?" Reed asked, trying to twist round so he could see.

"Hang on."

Tucker placed his hand on Reed’s shoulder and he stilled, waiting until Tucker was in front of him once more, and he was delicately holding the feathered end of a dart. Reed felt his features freeze and he peered into the undergrowth, wondering nervously when the next attack would come. He reached out.

"Don't touch the point," Tucker cautioned.

Reed nodded.

"You sore?" Tucker asked.

"Bloody annoyed, actually," Reed's attempt at humour was weak, and failed altogether as he realised. "Can't feel my shoulder." There was a short silence before he turned to face Tucker, his features reflecting the seriousness of their situation. "Trip," he said. "You've got to leave me." He rode straight over the objections. "Listen to me," and Tucker stilled, obviously realising that this was his tactical officer speaking, not his friend. Reed, only too aware of Tucker’s loyalty and steadfastness, fervently hoped that this time he would listen. "You only need to stay away from them for another hour. Let me head them off for as long as I can before …" he paused for a moment, aware neither of them had any idea what was on the dart, and whether it might prove fatal. As it was he could feel a numbness settling in the shoulder and beginning to spread inexorably. "As soon as you can, contact the ship." Tucker's expression betrayed his distress and Reed finished.   "It's our only chance, Trip. You know I'm right."

All Tucker could do was nod, and it seemed he couldn’t trust himself to speak. He reached out to grip Reed’s shoulder and Malcolm squeezed his forearm with as much reassurance as he could muster. "I'll see you soon," Reed promised, and then, before he could think, before he could change his mind, he leaned forward and kissed Tucker. There was a muffled gasp in response, and then Trip's arms were strong bands around him as he returned the kiss.

Reed finally broke away, turned and was gone.

**

Tucker stared at the spot where Reed had been swallowed so abruptly by the forest, although he could still hear his deliberately noisy progress. With a curse, Tucker turned away, and took the opposite heading, fishing out his communicator as he travelled. He could still feel the heat of Malcolm's mouth. Every few moments he attempted to contact _Enterprise_ , concentrating on moving as swiftly and quietly away from Reed as he could and he was taken completely by surprise when he felt a sharp pain at the back of his leg. Twisting, he gazed down at the dart buried in his thigh and cursed. Yanking it out, he turned, faced with one of the men who had been chasing them, swearing again as another dart buried itself in his flesh. He stumbled, and as he fell and slid into unconsciousness, he prayed Malcolm had escaped.

**

Completely unaware of Tucker's fate, and the futility of his own heroic efforts to lead their pursuers on a different track, Reed stumbled on, the creeping paralysis and continuing pain from his wrenched ankle causing him to trip more and more often. He was trying to make enough noise to pull the men after him, without making it obvious that he was attempting to mislead them. As he moved he castigated himself for that moment of weakness when he had given in to impulse and kissed Trip. Stupid. Stupid. After all his attempts to maintain a friendship and not let these feelings overwhelm him, he had failed at the worst possible time. Grimly, he tried to thrust those thoughts away and tried not to remember how soft, how eager, those lips had been.

A figure broke cover before him and he spun to limp in another direction, only to be faced by another. Turning slowly around he realised he was surrounded. Seeing no other course of action, he lunged at the one nearest him and bedlam broke out. The odds were overwhelming and it was mere moments before he was overpowered and found himself face down on the soft forest floor. He continued to struggle, though everything was fading out around him. As the darkness claimed him, his last thought was of Trip.

I'm sorry, love. Forgive me.

***

Waking up would have been deeply unpleasant, if it hadn't been mitigated by the sheer surprise of still finding himself alive. Groaning, Reed forced himself to open his eyes, gazing blearily around and for once was almost pleased to recognise the pristine surroundings of sick bay. The monitor above him was beeping steadily and he was not surprised when Phlox appeared in his line of vision.

"Ah, Mr Reed. Back with us, I see."

"Trip …" he said.

"Here, Malcolm," the familiar accent was reassuring, if groggy.

"Mr Tucker is just recovering from the effects of the tranquillisers."

"Tranq-? We thought it was poison!"

His attention fastened on the sounds of a muted conversation taking place outside his line of vision, and he frowned as he recognised Archer's voice approaching. Grimacing, he let Phlox sit him up and stared suspiciously at the two young, smartly dressed men who accompanied him.

"Malcolm, how are you?"

"Fine, sir," he said, glancing once more at the figures with him. Suddenly he was absolutely still, before he glared at one of them and accused: "You shot me!"

There was a slight hiatus before the man's skin tone darkened, presumably denoting some change in his emotional state, mused Reed, though he didn’t alter his own expression.

"We're so terribly sorry about that, Lieutenant Reed," and he continued as Reed frankly gawped at him. "We didn't realise you hadn't been informed."

Reed cast a speaking look at Archer, who was looking distinctly uncomfortable. "Apparently you and Trip arrived just at the start of a holy festival."

"We thought you had decided to be involved," the young man broke in. "The festival dates back to the time when there were wars between tribes. We entered into a period of stability and this ritual evolved thousands of years ago to serve as a reminder -"

"You _hunt_ people as a reminder?"

"No. Oh, no. That's not it at all," his distress was obvious now. "Strangers come from another continent to the historical park once a year and we carry out the ritual chase. When the strangers get to the cliff they surrender and we take them back to the village as friends to join the festival. It commemorates a real event in the days of Skulach the Magnificent -"

At this point the young man's companion coughed discreetly and interrupted what was clearly becoming someone entering his stride on a subject of particular interest.

"You gave us rather a shock when you began climbing," he took up the story. "We shouted after you, but didn't realise to start with that our Universal Translator was malfunctioning. Then we decided we'd better not distract you. We were terrified until you reached the top. _Then_ we realised how bad it was. The forest is a nature reserve. It's the habitat of our most dangerous predator. So some of us followed you to try and stop you somehow and we called the Park Ranger. He provided the tranquilliser darts he carries when he's working up there."

Malcolm and Trip just looked at one another for a moment before Tucker let out a long groan, his head thumping back onto the biobed. "You're telling me it was all a misunderstanding?"

"'Fraid so, Trip," Archer said. And despite everything, or maybe because of his relief, there was a distinct twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

Phlox glanced at the two men. "I think we had better let the commander and lieutenant rest, gentlemen," and began to usher the visitors towards the door.

"Oh, of course. But please," the first young man was walking backwards, still talking. "We would be honoured if you would join us for our feast day tomorrow." Fortunately Phlox had eased him out of the room before either felt they had to respond.

Tucker glanced across at Reed. Malcolm was pale, a pallor he realised he probably shared. "You saved my life, Malcolm."

Grey eyes, surprised, regarded him. "It was all a mistake."

"Maybe - but we didn't know that at the time and it doesn't change what you did."

Reed shrugged, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation and Tucker said no more. Neither of them mentioned that desperate kiss but Tucker knew Reed was aware they would be talking about it sooner rather than later.   Well, if Trip Tucker had anything to do with it. That had been some kiss, after all.

Phlox returned at that point, urging them to get some rest, dimming the lights and leaving them to their thoughts.

There was along pause and then Tucker observed. "You just _know_ the Captain's gonna make us go to this feast tomorrow, don't you?"

"I know." Malcolm sounded as enthusiastic as he felt.

"Malcolm," he said. "Tell me you'll be taking a phase pistol?"

***

In the end, Captain Archer refused to countenance Reed's request to be armed when they returned to the planet, and, as Tucker had predicted, also insisted that they had to attend the feast to which they’d been invited. Both had conceded with poorly hidden ill-grace and had left the captain's ready room grumbling, oblivious to the twinkle in Archer's eyes.

Despite the inauspicious start, they’d enjoyed the ceremony immensely. It had taken the form of a feast set round a roaring fire, with music and dancing. The whole occasion was relaxed and light-hearted and they found themselves enjoying the gentle teasing to which they were subjected about their first visit. During the evening several people approached them to express their own apologies about the misunderstanding and, with the benefit of some particularly good alcohol, Reed and Tucker became progressively more well-disposed to their hosts as the evening continued.

In the early hours of the morning they were shown to a small hut in the grounds, which looked primitive but turned out to include an en-suite bathroom and two extremely comfortable looking beds.

And then their host left them and they were alone.

For a moment they stared at one another, before Tucker smiled and said quietly. "You kissed me."

Reed answered his smile with one of his own. "I did, didn't I?"

"Did you mean it?"

"You know me best, Trip, what do you think?"

A grin. "You meant it."

Tucker reached out then and gently tangled his fingers with Reed's. A little self-consciously, he laughed. "I can't tell you how many times I've imagined this, Malcolm, and now …" He tailed off as his friend laughed softly.

"And now you're knackered and all you really want to do is sleep," Reed finished for him, then tugged on the hand he held to bring Tucker into the circle of his arms and kissed him. It was a gentle kiss, but was full of promise and the blue eyes were bright when it ended.

"You got that right," he said.

Reed laughed again, "Trust me, I know exactly how you feel. Let's get some sleep. We can talk about everything else tomorrow."

"Sounds good to me." This time Tucker instigated the kiss, breaking off to yawn, setting Reed off in his turn.

Quickly they shed clothes until, dressed in their blues, they slid under the covers of one of the beds, moving until they were comfortably ensconced in one another's arms. They murmured sleepy goodnights and both fell quickly into deep, dreamless slumber.

***

Captain Jonathan Archer glanced at the clock and frowned, turning to his communications officer. "Ensign, see if you can raise Commander Tucker or Lieutenant Reed, would you?" Part of him could not believe the two could have managed to get themselves into trouble once again, but you never knew, and it was getting perilously close to the point where they would be AWOL. It certainly wasn't like them not to check in well ahead of time.

His attention was caught by Sato, witnessing her surprise as she turned to him. "Sir, Minister Levena is asking to speak privately with you."

Archer's eyebrows rose. "Patch it through to my ready room." He was already on his way.

Once he settled himself at his desk he accepted the call, recognising from the signature that the man was using the Commander's communicator. "Minister Levena, is something wrong?" He could not keep the anxiety from his voice.

"Nothing is wrong, Captain, and I must apologise for using your technology, but I would like to see you in person to discuss your officers."

"You said nothing is wrong!" Worry sharpened Archer's tone.

"Nor is it," Levena responded.

"My apologies, Minister. You will appreciate that I am concerned. I will be with you shortly."

"I will transmit the co-ordinates, Captain."

***

Levena was waiting for him as he exited the shuttlepod, trying to project a calm he was far from feeling. The old man was wearing a comfortable looking robe, his hands tucked into the long, wide sleeves.

"Welcome, Captain," and he performed the ritual greeting.

Archer reined in his impatience and returned the greeting, walking beside the man as he led the way across the small compound to some huts. Silently, Levena opened the door and Archer peered into the gloom. As his eyes adjusted to the lower light he saw Reed and Tucker, curled up together in one of the two beds and both were still clearly deeply asleep. They looked so peaceful, he didn’t have the heart to disturb them and instead he backed out slowly, allowing Levena to shut the door.

"Why did you show me that?" he asked, when they were some distance away. He wasn’t particularly surprised, after all he’d spent four years watching the two men and occasionally despairing at the slow progress towards something which, to him, seemed inevitable. As he walked towards the main compound he recalled the first time he’d broken up an argument between the two. The scene that had met his eyes when he entered the armoury on that occasion had brought him up short, faced with his two officers practically nose to nose shouting at one another. It was such a contrast to Reed's usual quiet composure that he’d almost gaped. His arrival had stopped the altercation and as he’d made his displeasure felt he’d taken a moment to be amused at the way both fell over themselves to excuse the other, and how in the midst of it all they’d reached a compromise on the problem facing them and had both dived off to engineering to start the work. Neither seemed to notice that they hadn’t been dismissed, and it was not until dinner later on that a shame-faced Tucker had apologised on behalf of them both. Ever since, Archer had learned, as had most of the crew, to ignore these spats, and to let the two men sort themselves out. Over the past two years it had been more difficult not to interfere, watching in dismay as they seemed to draw further apart in many ways while still retaining a closeness that defied explanation.

It seemed they’d finally reached some resolution and Archer was delighted by that, aware of the deterioration in his long friendship with Tucker and his inability to provide him with the support he’d needed when things were at their worst. Malcolm would be able to help him, he thought with relief, better than anyone.

They reached the main hut on the compound and as they settled themselves around the low table, Levena began to speak.

"We are not a telepathic race, Captain, but there are many among us who have heightened empathic senses. You will often find that they’re our teachers, our doctors, our psychologists. Over the past few days, many of my people have come to me expressing distress and disquiet." There was a pause while another man arrived with a tray of the breads and fruit Archer now recognised as the usual breakfast. It was accompanied by a large pot of the hot dark brew for which he’d quickly developed a taste, as it was similar to very good coffee. He accepted a beaker gratefully and waited for Levena to continue.

"You told me of your mission to stop the Xindi, Captain, and all that’s happened since. Many of your crew are tired, still struggling to deal with what has happened to them. It is clear that you are all idealists. You left your planet to explore, to make friends, and instead you found yourselves having to be warriors. It is not surprising that this has left many of you damaged."

His voice was kind, carrying no hint of censure and Archer, who still had so many of his own demons to face, felt his throat close.

"Do you have to leave today?"

He looked up in surprise, meeting the compassion in those clear eyes. "We have no distinct schedule."

"Then may we invite you to stay? There are many among us who could help you, there are many places on this world where your people could find peace and perhaps begin to heal." Gently he finished. "This is not your home world, Captain, there are no ghosts here."

Archer stared at him for a moment, and then sheer instinct kicked in. "Thank you. I’d like to accept your offer on behalf of us all."

Levena smiled. "Good. I have a small villa on the coast. I suggest that you, the commander and the lieutenant spend a few days there together."

Archer interrupted, remembering the close embrace he had so recently witnessed. "I'm not so sure they would welcome my company."

The Minister chuckled. "Spend three days with them, Captain, getting to know them again," his glance was shrewd, "and then my son will collect you and take you climbing. Jora is a psychologist. I think he’ll be able to help you. I’ve received offers from many to help your crew. Will you allow me to organise this?"

"I’d be grateful." And he was, and more relieved than he could possibly express. Now, when the opportunity presented itself, he knew he was desperate to talk, to try and face the things he’d done and deal with them, and then hopefully to move on. He was still not sure about spending the first few days with Reed and Tucker, but he was trusting Levena more by the second, and bowed to his judgement.

A movement at the door to the hut caught his eye and he grinned as two very sheepish looking officers entered. Levena rose and interrupted their attempts to apologise.

"It is I who must apologise, gentlemen, but when we saw how tired you were, we removed your communicators and silenced the alarms. Please join us." He gestured to the low stools on the other side of the table and didn’t resume his own meal until they were seated.

Archer saw Reed's unease and broke in. "Minister Levena let me know where you were, so there was nothing to worry about. You both look better for the sleep. And I've decided to extend our stay here, anyway, so there was no rush."

"We're staying?" Tucker asked, his features brightening.

"Yes," Archer grinned at him and proceeded to fill them in on his decision, glossing over the reasons why.

***

Archer settled onto the golden sand of the beach, squirming a little until he was comfortable. He drew his knees up to his chin and wrapped his arms around them, one hand cradling the bottle of local brew. Gazing out at the calm ocean, he watched his two friends. Surprise hadn't quite covered it when he realised just how good a swimmer Malcolm was, elegant and fast. The two men were frankly playing in the water, although Archer did notice that Reed stayed well within reach of the shore, refusing to be tempted into deeper waters.

With a sigh, he took a drink and rested the cool bottle against his forehead. In the morning Levena's son would arrive to take him climbing and hopefully to help him address a few of his own demons. He was amazed how eager he was to start, how much he needed to talk. It was as if he was finally ready to heal, as if he could now accept help. Silently he thanked Levena for his suggestion about spending time with Trip and Malcolm. All three had been awkward to start with, and it had taken darkness and several bottles of potent alcohol each before they had finally begun to talk. He shifted uneasily. There had been a fair bit of bitterness and pain to deal with, an acknowledgement of loss of trust, but somehow they’d come through those conversations feeling as if they’d at least cleared the air. The following day, Reed had pleaded a desire to finish a novel and had sent them off on a walk. Archer blessed his tact, as Trip and Jonathan had walked and talked, returning late in the evening to share a quiet meal, their friendship not mended but at least some bridges had been rebuilt. He grinned at their antics now, as Malcolm tackled the taller, broader man and easily overpowered him, although it didn't look as if Tucker was putting up much of a fight.

Another reason to move on. For the first few nights he’d been aware that Trip and Malcolm were exhausted, not just from the effects of their first disastrous attempt at shore leave, but from almost two years of anxiety and horror. They’d all fallen into their beds each night, Archer in one room, the other two sharing the bigger bed in the second bedroom. They needed some time and space now, he acknowledged, and they’d have at least another full week in this paradise.

Levena had asked for his trust, indicating that they’d allow each member of the crew the time and help they needed. He’d agreed, thankful for the help, and the man had indicated that Tucker and Reed should have at least ten days, asserting that he’d visit them himself at the end of this time to decide whether they were ready to return. Looking at them now, Archer had little doubt, watching as they helped one another.

***

Tucker slipped his arm around his partner as they watched the shuttle disappear into the early morning sky, and when it had gone, he sighed, turning towards Reed. There was a long silence while they stared at one another, expressions serious, before Tucker smiled sweetly and leaned in to capture Malcolm's lips in a gentle caress. Reed murmured deep in his throat as he shifted, pulling Trip closer and opening his mouth, the kiss segueing from sweet to passionate. Both were breathing heavily when it ended.

"So, alone at last," Tucker quipped.

Reed's yes were dark with desire and he smiled. "It looks that way." 

"Interested in a morning nap?"

He grinned. "You could persuade me, Mr Tucker."

Tucker laughed as he captured Malcolm's hand and led him into the cabin, making their way to the cool bedroom.

***

In the end, Enterprise spent almost three weeks at the planet, all of the crew spending a greater or lesser time on the surface. This was their last evening in orbit and they were hosting a reception for some of the many friends they had made. The dining room had been decorated with lights and greenery, giving it a festive air, and all around people from both worlds were chatting and laughing. Archer smiled around at the sight, glad to see how fit and well everyone was looking, and glad too that they had finally met a people who were looking to develop friendly relations. Not only that, but a civilised and sophisticated people who were a delight to spend time with.

In one of the small clusters he could see Reed and Tucker, their new relationship obvious in the way they stood so close together and seemed so in tune with one another. Archer knew there had been a long conversation between Tucker and T’Pol and, more surprisingly, another between Reed and T’Pol. Archer knew he’d never be privy to what was said at either, even if he’d felt he could ask, but the new ease between three of his senior staff was evidence enough that those conversations had cleared the air.

Tucker glanced across at him now, and smiled.

**Epilogue**

He came to a halt, panting, on the edge of an abyss.  With the sounds of pursuit there was no option left but to climb. He peered over the edge, seeing few places where he could find purchase. With his heart in his mouth and the cries of the hunters in his ears, he slipped over the side, his feet scrabbling for purchase.

It was too far.

He couldn’t reach.

In terror, he could feel the strain on his fingers increase, and knew he was about to let go, to tumble and fall and –

Someone squeezed arms around his middle and he blinked his eyes open to faint light.

“You okay, Malcolm?”

A hand settled over his chest, no doubt able to feel the rapid beat of his heart as the remnants of the nightmare dissipated.

“Bad dream,” he said. “Only this time I was trying to climb down that damn mountain.”

He felt Tucker’s body shift as he chuckled. “Yeah, that will be giving me a nightmare or two, I guess. You want me to take your mind off it?”

Reed smiled into the room and then turned to face Tucker. “I think that sounds like a fine idea, Mr Tucker.”

Tucker grinned. “Jolly good,” he said, and proceeded to do his best.

Which was, a sated Reed thought some time later, rather good.

Both slept soundly for the remainder of the night.

 

Fin

 


End file.
